Tanys Gladiatrix (The Chronicles of Tanys Book 2) (6 page)

"You're going to stable me?" Tanys asked.

Haru gave her a wincing smile, "Perhaps not the best choice of words... but to the point nonetheless. You are too valuable an asset to risk, and, now that the Malchesse know you can fight, you are in very real danger."

"You mean that little scene in the bathhouse was just to test me?"

"The Malchesse don't do anything without at least three reasons," Haru said, "Varkaa was probing your weaknesses as well as trying to rattle you with stories about Brecia's skill."

"Is Brecia that good?"

"It's hard to say," Haru admitted, "Brecia is chosen for her cruelty more so than her skill as a fighter. Her opponents are always beautiful girls or pretty boys... love slaves who have displeased their masters, or a lovely, exotic captive offered in sacrifice for the Prince's unusual appetites."

"What is her technique?" Tanys asked.

"She talks a lot... and then she takes you apart piece by piece."

"She talks?" Tanys scoffed.

"She's horrible," Danella spoke up, "She whispers terrible things, gettin' inside your head, 'til you believe there's no way you can win. Once she's killed your hope, she starts on your body."

"You've seen her fight?"

"Once," Danella said, her voice low, "I used to work in the palace."

"Anyway," Haru said, "it's not her tongue you should be worried about but her knives. Brecia always uses two long razors. She's as deadly with either hand, so you'll have to neutralize those as quickly as possible. You'll have the advantage in strength. She's not very big as far as humans go."

"That's comforting," Tanys said, "You want me to beat up a little girl."

"Hah!" Haru snorted, "Don't waste any sympathy on that monster. She's far older than she looks. I saw her fight when my father brought me to the city as a boy. Ugh, I guess he was trying to help usher me into adulthood or something. I did appreciate my first brothel visit though. I suppose, not all of Father's ideas were bad ones."

A clattering noise sounded at the end of the hall as Jorva entered the room, looking ridiculous in an over-large suit of spiked armor.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Tanys asked.

"Haru say Jorva get to play badger," the dwarf answered, hitching up his baggy leggings.

"You look... wonderful, Jorva" Haru said, "Danella, do you think you could help him with the fit?"

Danella sighed and moved to attend the little man.

"Badger?" Tanys asked.

"One of the most popular sporting matches in the arena," Haru said, "Seven hunters chase the badger around with spears until they catch him. It's why fighting dwarves are in such high demand."

"You're putting Jorva alone against seven men?"

"Don't worry," Haru said, "The slaves chosen to be hunters are usually lame. It adds to the amusement when they stumble around trying to catch the badger."

"You people are sick."

Haru shrugged his shoulders. "At least we admit it."

Tanys was beginning to enjoy the warmth of Cashuun. Her skin had browned to a tight suppleness beneath the southern sun. The cool shadow of an awning passed over her shoulder as she walked beside Danella through the narrow streets of the Holy City. Like Tanys, she walked bare-breasted in the fashion of a slave yet she bore herself as regally as any princess. A year ago, Tanys would have been ashamed of their nudity. Now, in a city where only the animals wore clothes, it seemed only natural.

They laughed as they walked, enjoying the freedom of their unique situation. Haru had forbidden them to attend the games, so convinced was he of a Malchesse plot against Tanys, or, more importantly, against his chance to impress the Prince. Both girls had waited obediently until the satyr had left with Jorva for the arena, and then followed along an alternate route through the winding alleyways of the city.

The girls stopped by the cart of a street vendor, purchasing a pair of the sugared cakes that Danella loved. They ate them as they walked, arriving at the outer wall of the arena thoroughly dusted with crumbs. Danella stuck out her chest, demanding that Tanys brush her off. Tanys smiled ruefully, giving her a few terse swats that set the nipple rings bouncing at the tips of Danella's dusky breasts. Danella surprised her then by leaning close and licking the last traces of syrup from the corners of Tanys' lips.

"Hey," Tanys said, nodding toward the arena, "The games are in there."

"That's what you think!" Danella cooed, "Tell me again why we left that big empty house with the soft, soft beds?"

"Let's go see how Jorva does against these one-legged men."

Danella smiled, bouncing away toward the slave gate. Tanys admired the girl's bottom, two round cheeks, parted by a white linen thong, and the slender brown legs stretching down to her jeweled sandals. She followed after, arriving at the gate just as Danella pulled the soft leather pouch of coins from its hiding place between her skin and the front flap of her loincloth. The man who took the coins looked as though he would gladly have traded places with that money pouch.

Once inside, they found seats in the slave section of the stands. The day was yet new, and they easily found good seats among the human slaves who sat watching the first matches of the day. Tanys took a seat on the long stone bench beside Danella. The grand arena was the largest she had seen. Multiple battles could take place at once with no danger of the combatants spilling over into one another's space. Even mock wars between hundreds of gladiators were fought within its thirty-foot-high walls on rare holy days. For now, however, the crowd contented itself to discuss the coming matches of the day, mostly ignoring the plight of an escaped slave, chained in the center of the arena and armed with only a stick, facing a pack of hungry dogs.

"When does Jorva go in?" Tanys asked.

Danella leaned over and made inquiry of the young men seated on the row below them. They seemed to have a schedule of sorts drawn out on a scrap of parchment. The girl took her time in retrieving the information, at last turning again to Tanys, still giggling at something the boys had said. "He goes in after the next match," she said. "The odds are high against him."

"We should have placed a bet," Tanys laughed.

At last the cries of the doomed prisoner chained below died away amid the growling of dogs fighting for his flesh. The keepers let it go on for as long as they deemed it might be entertaining, and then moved quickly to clear the arena in preparation for the next match. Tanys shifted restlessly on the hard bench. Already the sun had climbed above the spires and domed rooftops of the Holy City, and the shadow cast by the arena walls waned like a black moon on the pale sand of the arena floor.

The next match proved to be a general melee among a group of freshly captured slaves. They would fight until only half their number remained alive as a sort of initiation into the brutal world of the gladiator. What followed was more butchery than sport, and Tanys turned her head away, looking to the audience of this spectacle of death.

The majority of the arena's seating was reserved for the satyrs and a few important slaves. Most of these seats sat empty, with only sparse groups of the beastmen scattered throughout the stands, camped under bright umbrellas, engaged in various debaucheries, mostly oblivious to the humans fighting and dying in the arena below. By contrast, the stands reserved for the slave class were already beginning to fill to capacity.

Tanys frowned at a group of slaves that pushed by her headed towards their seats. She felt someone sit down on the bench beside her, and she turned to find herself face to face with Baran. She opened her mouth to speak, but her mind lacked any suitable retort with which to supply her lips.

"Forgive me, Tanys," Baran said. His smile was no longer the gallant smirk that had fueled the rage of her imagination but rather a gentle, honest look of friendship, "I wanted to talk to you."

"What makes you think I want to talk to you?" she said.

"I wanted to apologize for what Varkaa did," he said, "That was not sanctioned by our house, and not by me."

"What about what you did?" Tanys said, feeling her cheeks flush.

Baran let his eyes fall and rise over her body, a bit of the old cockiness returning to his smile. "You set foot in the arena against me! You were fair sport!"

"You won't find me such sport next time we meet!"

His eyes narrowed, measuring her. "No, I suppose not. After what you did to Varkaa's trolls, it seems you may have finally discovered the strength within yourself."

"Did they recover?"

"Berra still hasn't woken up yet, but, even if she does, you need not fear her retribution. You've been placed off-limits, at least 'till after the Prince's match."

"Then why are you here?" Tanys asked, wondering if his presence really bothered her. Seeing him for the first time not covered in gold paint, he did not look so much like a golden idol. This was a living man, handsome and strong. His knee brushed against her leg when he leaned close. She did not pull away.

"I must warn you," he whispered, "There is more to the Prince's match than simple bloodsport. The Malchesse wants everything to go according to his plan, and your master would do well to watch his step."

"My master!" Tanys scoffed, "And what is the plan? Me dying dutifully to the knives of Brecia?"

"Yes, that's part of it," he smiled, "but there's more to it than that. The Malchesse has been meeting with the heads of the other prime houses. They're planning something."

"What do I care?" Tanys asked, "I'm a dead woman, remember?"

"I don't know," Baran said, staring out over the arena, "I don't really know why I'm telling you this. It's just..."

"What?"

"I hate to see you wasted."

Tanys gave him a crooked smile. "I may surprise you yet."

"I've no doubt," he laughed, "but it's Brecia you need to surprise."

"How do I do that?"

"You have to make her afraid."

"I can be pretty intimidating when I need to be," Tanys said.

"I remember," Baran said, rolling his eyes.

"Hey!" She punched him in the arm. "You were distracting me with your... animal spirit." Her eyes flickered unconsciously to his bulging loincloth.

"Well, you're in luck then," he said, "Brecia doesn't have any animal spirit, or any soul at all for that matter. She's just an empty husk that eats fear. The only way to beat her is to starve her."

"Well then," Tanys asked, "what is the little bitch afraid of? Should I smuggle in a jar of spiders?"

"I'd like to see where you'd hide them," he laughed, "But, honestly, I've never seen Brecia afraid."

"Are you scared of her?"

"Me? Scared of her?" Baran scoffed, "...I'm terrified of the little freak."

"How would you fight her?"

Baran looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'd probably do like the last poor bastard I saw fight her. He screamed like a demon and charged her, hoping to land a lucky blow."

"What happened to him?"

"Brecia sidestepped him and tossed his own ballsack to him when he turned around."

Tanys winced. "You should probably try something else then... I'd hate to see them wasted."

Baran grinned. Neither spoke as they watched the newborn gladiators retire from the field, drenched in the blood of their former companions. At last Baran broke the silence, "What are you doing here anyway? You enjoy watching this farce?"

"My friend is in the next match," Tanys said.

"The dwarf? He fights well. Where did you find him?"

"I met Jorva in the slave pits of a troll city far to the north," Tanys said, "He's saved my life more than once."

"How did the two of you wind up in Cashuun?"

"We rescued our satyr from a group of blood mages who were keeping him as a pet. Haru told us we could make a fortune in the arenas here," Tanys said.

"Ah, so you're just here for the money?"

"I don't know," Tanys said, "At the time... I just wanted to be somewhere else."

Baran didn't press the issue, and a long silence passed before Tanys spoke again. "How did you come to be a fighting slave?" she asked.

Baran smiled. "I was born into it. The Malchesse had me bred for the purpose of becoming a great gladiator. I never really knew my parents. One thing is for certain, at least one of them was faeborn."

"What?" Tanys asked.

"Faeborn," he said with a puzzled look, "Do they call it something else where you're from?"

Tanys stared blankly at him.

"I'm like you," he said, "not entirely human. One of your parents must have had fae blood. It's why you have an animal spirit."

"My mother..." Tanys answered. She started to say more, but the sound of hunting horns blared out, and barred gates were thrown open to admit the seven huntsmen into the arena.

Tanys watched the men, armed with long spears array themselves into a wide circle. Something was wrong. These men were neither lame nor weak but solid, and well-built gladiators. The crowd roared in approval to see real warriors take the field for the first time of the day.